Ralleous Dyr

**Ralleous Dyr** (Dyr being Lyrith slang for bastard) is a half-elf from Dalreon. As a youth, he left from Evertide to travel to Orilyn by sea where he was lived for some ten years. He arrived in Orilyn via small rowboat to the village of Ghen after the ship he was on was taken by pirates. There he came under the instruction of Saito Tan, learning the martial fighting styles of the East.

While wanting to learn the use of sword, he was forced to start with the bare hands doing strikes, blocks, and grapples. Without draconic heritage, he could not master the use of body energy like an Orilyn would. This put him at a severe disadvantage in melees as even with both unarmored he was outmatched.

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> With every crashing blow he would hear “block as if your arm were a shield,” although it was not. No matter how correct his stance, no matter how quickly he snapped his arm up, it didn’t take away the fact that he was not from Orilyn, he didn’t have dragon’s blood, and would never be able use the energy from the body mastery that they had. He couldn’t tell if the strikes were getting harder, or if he was simply weakening with every flash of pain. Blocking worked fine against fist and foot, but this was a stick; not a staff, but feeling more like one with each passing moment.
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> He thought back to when he started his training. How he made it clear that he wasn’t a ranger, and never used a bow. How he wanted to become a great swordsman, learn the art of the blade. The old man had simply given a low toned chortle of a laugh. “Before you can hold a sword, you must learn to use your hands,” he quipped. “What good is setting a vase on a paper shelf? An edge can only be as sharp as the one who wields it.”
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After a few years of this, and practicing stances, he was allowed to use a staff. It was some time before he was finally allowed to pick up a sword and begin to work on using it. He was taught the blade in the style of the dragon, a more swift and precise method of combat than western swordplay.

Armed only with a staff for his final trial, he stumbled in an old burial tomb where he took a jeweled ring from a skeletal finger, only to discover its magical defense.

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> Lying prone and pinned, there was nowhere to roll in time. As the club came hurling down to crush his skull, all he could hear was “block as if your arm were a shield”. He put his arm up hoping to sacrifice it to stop the surely lethal blow and exhaled.
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> The sound was unlike he had ever heard before, like a rock skipping across a frozen pond, deep yet shrill. In the split second before he opened his eyes he wondered if it was the sound of some otherworldly horn, ushering him to whatever afterlife awaited. Maybe it was just a side effect of having your face pushed past your ears and these were his final moments. He didn’t feel any pain, he didn’t feel anything at all.
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> Azure light filled his once winced eyes, accompanied by the melodic hum of pulsating energy. Like an ocean of luminance swirling in front of him until the waves cleared, and he saw what was beyond. Then he saw it, first the club, a breath away from his face. Then looking further he saw the gnoll with outstretched arm club still in hand. The startled look on the beast’s face was one of shock mixed with a hint of primal uncertainty. This was clearly not what it had expected, and it was trying to process what had just happened.
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> He quickly realized it is what he has been doing as well, and for too long. This was not a time to ponder arcane wonders, it was a time to take his free leg and smash it into the gnoll's ankle. The howling bark it let loose was almost enough for him to forget for a moment that it was intent on smashing his face. His only hope was that whatever shield had come out of that ring bought him enough time to get free.
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Returning to Dalreon disguised as an Orilyn merchant, Ralleous meets Lockpocket Len, a waylander rogue who teaches him the art of traversing urban landscape. They made their way from Evertide to Rindleforde, and in the local tavern met a bard who worked for Darvynus Dauntora, a mage that was hiring adventurers.

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> Hair dye and cultural knowledge from so long in Orilyn were enough to play the part during the journey, and even along the busy docks of Evertide. This was a tavern however, where people go to slow down a bit, and notice things that escape the tunnel vision of the busy scenes outside. Having pointy ears weren’t going to be enough of a guise when drinks were involved. There was something about the descent to intoxication that passed a moment of elevated focus and brutal honesty. More often than not, it was dwarves that held themselves there the longest.
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The mage was obsessed with the construction and precision of his tower outside of town, and needed parties to retrieve items for him. He had hired the bard to perform music for him after spell-casting, which he said helped stave off Mage Madness.

Despite being Half-elf, Ralleous never uses a bow, preferring the use of sword when available or other melee weapons when not.