Jerist Exeter Stammatis d'Orien

### Known Relatives

Jastin - Father, Maerthiel - Adoptive Mother, Starrine - Sister, Felith - Sister, Karst - Brother, Brost - Uncle, Kyrian - Uncle

## Meta Details

### Subclass

Giant Soul (reflavored to be Apex Dragonmark)

## Sources

### Out of Core (incl. pg #)

Unearthed Arcana Giant Soul Sorcerer - https://media.wizards.com/2018/dnd/downloads/UA\_GiantSoul.pdf

## Appearance

Jerist is a tall man standing just over six feet, slender and graceful. His black hair is short with a few early greys showing, and he is usually clean-shaven. With dark brown eyes he gives a tall, dark, and brooding vibe.

Though it is usually hidden by his clothing, Jerist bears the Lesser Mark of Passage on the right side of his chest. He carries a light crossbow and several knives, though they have rarely ever been used. His iron-shod quarterstaff shows the signs of extensive use, but only as a walking staff; none of the tell-tale signs of combat mar its surface.

His clothing is most often of a style very useful and sensible for long voyaging done all in natural colors. Despite being very serviceable, his clothes are always well-tailored and made of high quality cloth. Jerist does have a weakness for finery when he can get away with it, but even at his best-dressed, he eschews ostentation preferring simple, stylish designs and well-matched colors.

## History

Jerist relaxed in his seat, listening to the hum of the lightning rail speeding along its conductor stones.  As the rail sped on, he thought back to the beginning.  Or, what he thought of as the beginning.  Though that trip to Q’barra was probably not even the beginning.  The real beginning was probably the Mark. Jerist’s face soured a little as he remembered those early days after his Dragonmark appeared.

\*\*\*

*Jerist stood in the bathing chamber glaring in disgust at the mirror.  The blue-green lines that had appeared on his chest overnight glared back at him.  His disgraced house had no business carrying this Mark.  Though they had borne the name Orien, none in his family had carried the mark for some eight generations.  Despite this, shrewd business sense had kept his family among the ranks of the minor families of House Orien.  That was, at least, until his father’s “shameful indiscretion.”  Jerist rolled his eyes at his image in the mirror.*

Shameful indiscretion.  What a way to describe love, *Jerist thought.  His father and his mother obviously loved each other.  Oh, she was not his real mother; his real mother, a 'proper Orien girl', had died five days after his second birthday.  But he had never known his birth mother, and the woman who had raised him, taught him, loved him, and had been his mother in every way save blood was a Lyrandar.*

*Jerist made a mock grab for his pearls, as the older*
women still sometimes did when they saw Jerist or his father or mother.  Not that any of them were allowed to attend house functions any longer.  They had simply been shunned before the birth of his little sisters.  For the heinous crime of conceiving a child between two of the great bloodlines, they had been Excoriated from House Orien; stripped of the name and banned from conducting any business the Oriens might deem ‘House Business’

*And now this.  Jerist had never been a graceful child, much to the amusement of the other kids, so he had known what it meant this morning when his feet seemed to move with a new swiftness and his balance had been flawless as he rose for the day.  Jerist had no desire to bear the Mark of the House that had nearly destroyed his family.  For all his thirteen years Jerist had no expectation of ever manifesting a Mark.  Though his birth mother’s family had many Dragonmarked members, no child of his father’s line had borne a Mark for over three hundred years.*

*Hiding the Mark, while possible, was not really an option; while he may harbor no love for House Orien, Jerist was savvy enough to know that the house would likely be willing to re-patriate him for bearing the Mark.  As the only Marked member of his family, it was his duty to do what he could to improve their lot by any means at his disposal.*

*Jerist braced himself, slipped his tunic back over his head with a sigh, and went in search of his mother.*

\*\*\*

Jerist shook his head to dispel his thoughts, sitting up straight in his seat.  He had no desire to hash over the classes, fights with his father, taunting of other scions of the House, and all the other unpleasantness that followed the emergence of his Dragonmark and his re-acceptance into the House.   It was not all bad, having a Dragonmark opened many doors.  Jerist’s cheeks warmed as he fondly remembered some of the doors that his new Mark had opened.  But it had closed many others.  Jerist’s uncles Brost and Kyrian were more than happy to foster their newly Marked nephew away from the taint of his father’s shame, though it was never actually phrased that way.  As he tried to make up for years of learning how to be an Orien, a d’Orien actually, Jerist did whatever he could to help his father and mother and his siblings.  For four years he tried to be a good House scion.  He learned a great deal about the House industries, and was able to discreetly increase the House Orien business that went through his father’s inn.  It was his parents’ idea that he spend some time in the Courier’s Guild; better that than fighting in the war.  The next five years passed in a blur of travel.  Jerist found that he loved the open road and he enjoyed traveling to every corner of Khorvaire; always volunteering for the long-distance deliveries.  His status as a Courier allowed him to cross borders that would otherwise have been barred to him.  That was how he ended up in Q’barra.  Everything changed in Q’barra; that was the true beginning.

\*\*\*

*The morning sun shone bright on Jerist’s face as he stood in the prow of the* Dark Beauty*.  The mornings aboard ship were among the most beautiful he had ever seen and Jerist could well understand how someone would feel the pull of the sea.  This was the longest delivery he had ever accepted, from Sharn all the way to Newthrone.  For whatever reason, the client did not want the package to travel by teleportation circle or by airship.  So he booked passage on the* Dark Beauty. *Now, after two long weeks, he was standing on the deck of the Brelish schooner curving in towards the Adder Bay in Q’barra.  He had studied a small gazetteer of Q’barra on the voyage, but experience had taught him that the things the Gazetteer did not teach him were often much more important than those it did.*

“A fine morning for watching the sun rise from the prow, eh Master Jerist?”  *The voice was deep, so deep it almost seemed to vibrate the deck planks beneath Jerist’s feet.*

*Only one man aboard had a voice like that,* “Truth, Captain Tyran.  This is a view I will miss.”

*The captain of the* Dark Beauty *was a study in contrasts.  Short for a human male, and slight, but incredibly strong; so much so that Jerist suspected magic to be behind it.  He had the voice of a man many times his size – the voice of a giant – and Jerist never lost his amazement that the sailor could produce such a sound from such a small chest.* “Lucky for you, you don’t suffer the sickness that most land-dwellers do when you sail.”  *A slow chuckle rolled forth from him, and the captain went on,* “In any event, young lord, I came to tell you that we will be docking in Newthrone before noon.”

*Jerist nodded in reply, turning to clasp the other’s offered forearm,* “Thank you, Captain.  If I can conduct my business in Newthrone swiftly, I will seek a berth again for the return voyage.”

“Unlikely,” *the captain said,* “Nothing in Newthrone is ever conducted swiftly.  Especially business.  But, if you are lucky, there will be a berth for you.”

*The captain turned and walked back to the quarterdeck and the ship’s wheel calling orders to his crew the whole way.  Jerist turned back to the prow to watch the coast approach the ship and transition slowly from coastline to bay and finally to the harbor of Newthrone.*

*After docking Jerist walked easily down the gangplank, courier’s bag slung crosswise, the badge of the Orien Couriers prominently displayed on his chest, and an eagerness to see this new land itching in the soles of his feet.*

\*\*\*

The slowing of the rail tugged Jerist out of his reverie, and he made his way up to the observation dome atop his car.  Ahead he could see the city of Wroat and knew that they would be making a stop there; probably at least two hours.  He stood at the side of the observation dome, watching Wroat speed closer, musing on how strange it was to be traveling without a courier’s pouch after so many years.  His thoughts were interrupted by the announcer as the train slowed more.

<<Attention all passengers: Now approaching Wroat station.  Our stay here will be two hours and thirty minutes for inspection and to take on cargo and passengers bound for Sharn.  For those of you leaving us here, House Orien thanks you for traveling on the Lightning Rail, and we look forward to serving you again in the near future.>>

Jerist sighed and headed back to his seat.  He had no desire to get off the train, and the walk up to the observation dome had been enough stretch for his legs.  As he sank back down into the cushion of his seat, Jerist resigned himself to the remaining 10 hours of his journey.  Thoughts of his trip and the reason for his visit to Sharn took his mind back to Q’barra and the odd request of Marcel the Black.

\*\*\*

*Jerist sat in a small but comfortable sitting room, the glass of excellent whiskey forgotten in his hands,* “I’m sorry, Marcel, can you run that by me one more time?”

*The bearded man laughed softly,* “That is about what I thought your reaction would be.  But you seem to me to be a man that appreciates a bit of adventure; I know that you have no deliveries headed back to civilization for now; and you seem to be a resourceful fellow.  Besides, you brought the information that makes this expedition a possibility.”

“Okay, but aren’t most of the lizardfolk tribes hostile?  What is out there that is worth this?”  *Jerist’s voice carried a curious note that belied his protest.*

*Marcel leaned forward slightly in his chair, and his voice was such that Jerist had to lean forward to hear it,* “What have you heard of The Prophecy?”

“The Draconic Prophecy?”

“What other prophecy is worth talking about?”  *Marcel was intense now; eager.*

“Are you saying that there is something out in the wilds of Q’barra that has to do with the Prophecy?”  *Jerist was hooked now.  This was exactly the kind of secret he loved.  The fact that his father would forbid it if he had the chance made Jerist all the more eager.*

“In the distant past, many of the dragonborn lived in this land.  It is to one of their ruins that I am proposing an expedition,” *Marcel replied*, “where the divinations, the results of which you brought to me, say that we should be able to uncover some insight into the Prophecy.”

*Jerist looked at Marcel, the hints of suspicion and doubt crawling into his thoughts*, “Marcel, why did you not use a local diviner?  Why was the message sent via courier?  Surely all of this could have been accomplished much faster?”

*Marcel nodded, an understanding expression on his face and perhaps a little satisfaction*, “Young Jerist, your questions are valid, but I cannot answer them fully just now.  I will, however, say this much:  the diviner we consulted is one of few who understand the implications of attempting divination on matters closely related to the Prophecy.  As for the method of communication, there are some who do not appreciate the interest I have in the Prophecy, and perhaps this method was unexpected,” Marcel *laid one finger beside his nose conspiratorially.* “Besides, you cannot tell me that the thought of this does not pique your curiosity.  Not you who has been reprimanded four times by the Couriers for, what was it?”*Marcel looked down at a slip of paper on the table,* “Ah yes, ‘allowing your irresponsible desire for adventure and excitement’.”

*Jerist arched an eyebrow at the older man, though Marcel simply looked back at him with a small knowing smile on his face.  After a long, waiting moment, Jerist finally shrugged and nodded,* “If I let this chance slip through my fingers, I will never forgive myself.”

*Three weeks, one short journey by ship, and one grueling and long foot slog through the Q’barran jungle later found Jerist and Marcel standing outside an overgrown ruin deep in the heart of Q’barra.  With them were the cleric Tashar, and a dragonborn whose name Jerist had never heard spoken.*

*Marcel’s voice was deeper somehow, and held a resonance that Jerist could not ignore*, “We are here in time, my friends.  The Concordance is tonight, and we will witness it from the forgotten orrery .  Jerist, are you ready to see the Prophecy reveal itself to you?”

*Jerist could only nod and follow the others as they pushed into the long-abandoned complex.*

*\*\*\**

The lightning rail lurched into motion once more, and Jerist was glad for the disruption.  If he tried, all the details of that trip would come back to him.  The attacks from outraged lizardfolk, the trek through the treacherous ruins, descending deep into the ground and somehow finding himself on top of a large structure in the open air were all there.  But most of all the Orrery and the events of the Concordance were etched into his mind.

\*\*\*

*Night had fallen long ago, and the orbs that represented the planes ground steadily along their tracks.  Three of the planes would align to form a perfect trine this day, and Jerist was sure that something life-altering was about to happen.  He could feel a building pressure around them echoed by an itch in his Dragonmark.*

*Closer and closer the alignment came.  Jerist began to hear..something.  A whispering chant?  A keening wail?  A nearly subsonic humming?  At times it was all of these and a hundred more, always just out of hearing, strain though he might.*

*A noise from behind him, deafening by comparison to those quiet sounds he could barely make out, drew his attention away from the Orrery and Jerist glanced behind.  What he saw startled him so badly that he nearly tumbled into the geared workings of the machine, but a long-taloned claw caught him and steadied him.  Marcel was nowhere to be seen, but a huge, black, winged, scaled shape crouched in the open air chamber.  The creature, the dragon – for what else could it be – spoke in Marcel’s voice and though it was not the common tongue, Jerist found he could understand, “Be at ease, young Jerist, all will be explained.  Now watch, the Concordance is upon us.”*

*And it was.  With a final soft click that somehow boomed like thunder, the trine was formed and Jerist* saw*!  For a few moments, heartbeats that lasted for hours, Jerist could see the past, the present, and the future.  He saw the birth of the world upon which he stood.  He saw the struggle between Khyber and Eberron.  He saw simultaneously what the world would become if either Khyber or Eberron were to emerge victorious from the millennia long struggle.  Jerist could feel his Dragonmark flaring brightly and painfully upon his chest.*

\*\*\*

Jerist shook away the memories, though they were never far gone from him.  He could never remember the specifics of what he saw in the bizarre vision, but he was left with two certainties.  First was that  Khyber could never be allowed to escape his prison and that he, Jerist, would do whatever he could to prevent it. The second was that a caravan master by the name of Orikhun Strent would steal a dagger in Droaam and must not be allowed to keep it.  The disaster of which he was certain was vague, but no less real to him.

Jerist came away from Q’barra with two other things.  The first was the knowledge that he had been aiding a mysterious cabal of dragons in their quest to guide and understand the Draconic Prophecy for most of the last four years.  Knowing what he now knew, he had pledged himself knowingly to their cause, for their cause was little more than the survival of everything.  The second thing he took away from Q’barra was a Dragonmark that he had never heard tell of.  His Mark of Passage was .. evolving.  He had no idea what that might be.  Sometimes a Dragonmark would grow larger, but it was always the same.  His still contained his original Mark of Passage, but it was slowly changing, slowly growing.

Jerist’s reminiscences sped up as the train approached Sharn, and a summary of the last four years flashed by his mind’s eye.  He saw the theft of the Dagger of Frozen Dust from Orikhun Strent, the defeat of a nest of abberrations near the Skyraker Forest.  His first trip to the Mournland to rescue a ‘Forged named Smudge was harrowing for Jerist.  Seeing firsthand the devastation of the Last War left him shaken.  The last great adventure, barely two months ago, was an ill-fated trip into the Mournland.  Professing to be looking for the lost Cannith forge at Whitehearth, the team ran afoul of a never ending string of misfortunes and never made it to the region of the Mournland where lost Whitehearth was rumored to be located.

As the train slowed to a stop at the Sharn station, Jerist gathered his things and disembarked the car.  As he did every time he came to Sharn, Jerist stopped and marveled at the works of man.  Finally, Jerist checked the letter once more to make certain of the address before hitching his bag high on his shoulder and heading into the city.

### The Last War

Jerist avoided fighting in the Last War, using his connection in House Orien and his affiliation to the Chamber to ensure that he stayed far from the fighting. Toward the end of the War, Jerist was a member of the Orien Courier's Guild, which allowed him to travel all over Khorvhaire.

Jerist is not a particularly patriotic person, having two claims on his loyalty before country. As such, he has very little remorse or regret to have avoided the Last War.

### Invitation

Jerist does not know who made the decision to extend an invitation to him. But it is something towards which Jerist and his masters in the Chamber have worked hard to achieve for four years. The Chamber arranged for Jerist to participate in several noteable expeditions, two into the Mournland since the end of the War. The last was an attempt to locate the lost Cannith Forge at Whitehearth. Though Jerist was not supposed to know it, this was actually a Wayfinder-backed expedition. Though unsuccessful, Jerist thinks that some of the discoveries they did bring back from the Mournland are what ultimately caught the attention of the Wayfinders.

### Experience

Jerist has traveled over much of Khorvaire as a Courier. He was reprimanded several times for being more dedcated to adventure and excitement than he was to his duties for the Courier's Guild. While a courier, he participated in an expedition into the depths of Q'barra and has gone with two expeditions into the Mournland since leaving the Couriers.

### Motivation

Jerist has four motivations for adventuring, which are usually aligned. First, life in the House, in the cities is just so very boring! He wishes to feel his blood pounding through his veins. He wishes to strive against a challenging foe or solve an impossible puzzle. He wishes to recover lost treasure. He wishes for a life like those in the storybooks he loved when he was younger.

Second, Jerist desperately wants to ensure that Khyber remains imprisoned where he is and that Eberron remains. To this end he serves the Chamber and adventures as the need arises.

Third, he needs to make money to support his family in the lifestyle they deserve, or earn enough prestige that he can restore at least some of their lost luxury and, in his mind, dignity.

Lastly, Jerist is something of a hedonist and has very expensive tastes. He wishes to earn large sums of money to support himself in the lifestyle that he desires.

### Future Goals

Jerist would positively love to see Xen'Drik or Argonssen. HE has yet to see the Eldeen Reaches and would like to learn more about the Gatekeepers, of whom he knows only through rumor and whisper.

### Secrets

Jerist is secretly an agent of the Chamber. To that end he has learned well the art of *being* someone else to the extent that he can fool everyone except his mother.

## Personality

**Personality Traits**

* Jerist almost always has some kind of a snack close to hand.
* Jerist is often humming; sometimes a song and sometimes just tunelessly.
* When he is not humming, he is usually playing the lute.
* When he has had a stressful day, Jerist is known to sleepwalk.
* Jerist enjoys indulging in fine alcohols and spending time with beautiful women.

**Ideals**

* Family
* Helping to protect those who cannot protect themselves
* The virtue of helping good triumph over evil

**Bonds**

* Jerist is devoted to helping his family as much as he can. A large portion of his income is sent home to his father and mother.
* His experience in Q'barra changed his entire outlook on life and he is committed to his work for the Chamber.
* Though he is somewhat disillusioned about his House, Jerist sees in it much potential and is likely to be willing to help another Orien on name alone.

**Strengths**

* Jerist is, at heart, an optimist. It is not hard for him to see the good in others and to focus on potential good oucomes of an action.
* Jerist is a True Believer™️ in the virtue of the Chamber's work. If needed he would sacrifice himself and others to accomplish a mission.
* Jerist is very loyal once his word is given.

**Flaws**

* As an optimist, it is relatively easy for someone to convince Jerist of their good nature. If he believes that someone is good at heart, he is much more willing to help them and give them the benefit of a doubt.
* Jerist has massive blinders on regarding the Chamber and its motivations and goals.
* Jerist can be fairly impulsive, which has gotten him into trouble many times in the past.
* Jerist is a sucker for a pretty girl, particularly if she seems to be interested in him.

## Completed Missions

### Dragons Descendent

Jerist's first mission for the Wayfinders. Lady Alina ir'Lyrris of Zilargo discovered a new depth to a Khyber shard mine and wished for a group of Wayfinders to investigate and clear it of dangers to her miners. Beneath the mine they found an entrance to Khyber and fought against many threats including some burrowing plant creatures, assassin vines, a carniverous tree and its disturbingly ambulatory fruit, a den of demon-worshipping kobolds, and some kind of super rust monster. All of these threats were neutralized and Jerist feels satisfied wtih the success of his first mission.

Of particular interest to him was a strange black heart found beneath the tree with writing on it that seemed to Jerist be related to the Draconic Prophecy. He has taken a record of the writing, and will be transmitting it along with much of its details to the Chamber. Also, a very large stone-like egg was found and turned over to the gnomes.

## Crunch

### XP & Gold Log

*This transaction list must include all finished expeditions and the gold/XP earned for each, as well as all expenditures (what you bought and for how much).*

### Inventory

* Light Crossbow (20 bolts)
* Component Pouch
* Backpack
* Bedroll
* Mess Kit
* Tinderbox
* Torch (10)
* Rations (10)
* Waterskin
* Hempen Rope (50 ft)
* Daggers (2)
* Cantrip Caster(Create Bonfire)
* Mror Army Tool
* Heward's Handy Hotplate
* Two-Person Tent
* Common Healing Potion
* Common Clothes
* Chamber Code Book

### Character Sheet

* https://drive.google.com/open?id=1517shxLdPpvqGZTQ2qX7wVivBrnaDA-o