Legends of Belariath

MistWalker

When MistWalker first became aware of his existence, it was a frightening experience; he opened his eyes upon the forest and promptly shut them. The colors were so vibrant and the light was so bright, it took some getting used to. When he did eventually open his eyes fully and begin to look around, he found himself surrounded by Pixies and Nixies, all with green wings and excited expressions. With a cheer, they welcomed him into the world and welcomed him into their band.

This band of little folk was markedly different from others in nature, in that they did not adhere to the normal behavior of the rest of their community. They didn't believe in retribution via petty pranks, or holding grudges. In short, they rejected most of the common practices of their race. They instructed the young that they received likewise, and consequently they turned out much like the rest of the band, which explains MistWalker's sometimes odd behavior.

Throughout his childhood, MistWalker remained with his band, where they resided. They made their home in the forests south of Alwynsyr. There they made a life for themselves, tending to nature, their passive nature nurtured here in the serene wilderness. MistWalker learned a great many things there in the wilderness, but such happy times never seem to last for very long.

Before the passing of his ninth year, a particular nasty band of Wolven moved into residence near the Nixies, and started terrorizing them. The band, under the cover of darkness, left their home, taking nothing with them. The band moved swiftly, flying always under the cover of night, more afraid of what they might encounter during the day than the night. They flew for days, turning into weeks. After the eighth week, they started to see signs of civilization.

They had passed over The Eastern Landbridge, and had made their way to the Ruins of Old Velanfall. They continued along the coast, and finally made their way into the High Elven City of Verdspar. Trying to keep a low profile, they inquired as to forests nearby, and decided upon a forest west of the Spire of the Rising Sun.

It was during this time that MistWalker really came into contact with other sentient beings. Until now, he had encountered primarily creatures of the forest. Now he had come into contact with a great deal of others most notably the Elves. It was also during this time that he came in contact with gypsies for the first time.

He was headed to town to search for any odd jobs that needed doing, when he first saw the band of gypsies. Their camp was set up a few miles outside of town, and had sprung up over night. When he entered the town, he saw many of them hocking their wares, or providing what services they provided. He flitted about town curious who they were and where they had come from. It was when he was exploring one of the fortune telling tents that he was captured.

He had parted the curtain to peer inside, and been hit with a wave of scented smoke that the fortuneteller burned. Now, on a normal sized person, this smoke would have had the effect of calming them, and putting them in a trance-like state, but because of his size, the little Nixie was knocked unconscious by the first lung full of smoke.

He woke up very groggy, to find himself in a little glass bottle. Much to his dismay, he also found that the bottle was in the possession of a girl, no older than thirteen years. With his head pounding, he stood in his little prison, and took a look around. He was in another tent, and he determined that it was probably one of the tents he had seen on his way into town. The little girl had been sitting quietly by, watching him and had run to call her friends when he had begun to stir. He now had a number of adolescent girls crowding around his bottle, speaking in a language that he didn't understand and making faces

It was only a few days that they rested there, and soon Mist woke to find him bottle in the hands of the little girl, as she sat in back of a wagon as it was rumbling. He didn't know which direction they were headed, but he knew they were on the move. He also realized that he would probably never see his band again. As the wagon rumbled down the road, he wept silently for this, and waved a quiet goodbye to his band. He sat in his jar quietly, not causing any problems, and reflected on his life thus far.

Try as she might the little girl could not get Mist to cheer up, though she tried near everything, he simply sat in his bottle with little care for anything. It took weeks for him to finally come round, and by then he knew they were long gone from his band. He decided to move on as they surely had when he didn't return home that night.

With a new outlook on life, accepting that he was now a prisoner, he began to actually interact with the girl, leaning her language and picking it up quickly. They became fast friends, and soon she trusted him enough to let him out of the jar during the daytime. He took immense pleasure in these respites from his captivity, to which he returned when the sunset. As the band traveled, Mist learned a great many things, and had numerous experiences. As they traveled the band of gypsies met with other bands, often in friendship, but sometimes in conflict. It was during one such conflict that he earned his freedom.

The attack occurred during the night, and was swiftly carried out with the maximum efficiency. Mist awoke to screams and the sounds of arrows whipping by. The sound of hooves filled the air like thunder and the ground shook. Frightened out of his wits, Mist could do nothing short of wait, as he was still in his “cage”. His worry turned to his girl, as she too was awoken by the frightening sounds. She pulled the covers up over her head and cowered in bed, wishing it all away. It was at that time that the tent came crashing down upon them. Mist's bottle was thrown to the ground and shattered around him. His first instinct was to flee, but his thoughts turned quickly to his girl. Though she avoided much of the damage, she was not completely spared. He heard her cries from under the canvas, and sought her out. Upon finding her, he found that she had suffered a slight bump on the head. He brought her back to consciousness, and urged her to get up. He showed her the way to get out of the collapsed tent, moving swiftly as they could. Once out in the open, he hurried her towards the forest, where she would be safe away from the fighting.

Once past the tree line, he transformed into his large form to the awe of the girl. She had never seen him in his larger form, as he had never felt the need to demonstrate it to anyone. He hurried her along, urging her away from the battle. He had thought they had avoided any attention, but as was evident by the crashing and snapping of branches behind them, there was at least one person following them. He told her to continue, and he would take care of their pursuer.

Mist waited patiently behind a tree waiting for the attacker to pass, at which time he grabbed the man's wrist. Though he was much larger than the Nixie, it was the magic that mattered at that point. Mist said the words clearly and without hesitation. His first spell was stun bolt and the second was sleep. He left the attacker slumped on the ground as he ran to catch up with his girl.

They stayed hidden in the forest until dawn broke. Upon returning to camp, they found a bloody mess of a camp. They began helping with whatever they could right away, from extinguishing fires, to helping the healers. There were so many injured, and so many dead that the day just seemed to run together with the night, and into day again. It was over 48 hours before they both got some rest.

Once the band was back on its feet, the chief wished to honor the Nixie for all that he had done. “For services to the band” he was released, to do what he wished, though they told him that they would like him to remain.

He remained with them as a free being for some time, before moving on, having picked up the skills and knowledge to survive alone. Soon after splitting with the first gypsy band, he discovered another while on his travels in the mountains, “The Tribe of the Sapphire Phoenix”, a tribe of the purest blood, and gypsies that were known for staying within their own kind.

Mist discovered them one night while he was traveling along an old mountain road. He over heard a conversation between a young girl and her father. He followed them back to their camp where he remained hidden in the forest near their camp. He had begun to miss his gypsy girl from the last tribe, and the companionship that they shared. He hoped to establish a similar relationship with this new gypsy girl.

MistWalker followed the band for a few weeks, enough time to realize that this young girl was more of a young woman. He followed her anyway, and continued to follow her, even when she split from the band. He continued to watch her, and when she settled in Nanthalion, he approached her. She offered to collar the little nixie, much to his delight.

MistWalker is 18 inches tall in his natural state, and 4'9" when in large form. His hair is a shade of silver and reaches just past his shoulder blades. Often pulled back into a tail, it is usually well kept. His body is small in build but well defined. When in large form, he is often mistaken as a small elf because his facial features are so similar to that of a high elf.His eyes are silverish with a lavander hue and when he is happy they sparkle a deep lavander, with a harldy existent pupil. His wings are translucent, dark green. He wears deep purple mage robes with a fancy silver embordred print that sparkles when the light reflect off it. He wears a dark set of leather pants and a tunic to keep him warm. A pair of black soft soled ride boots tops off his appearance. He has his left ear pierced, a tradition from the last band of gyspsies he was traveling with, and of course because all nixies love shinyies.

Winter Clothes- 2 leather Trousers, 2 quilted Silk shirts, 1 new cloak, quileted with down fill, fur lined leather cloak. and a pair of winter boots.

Member of the Healers Guild Tyro Skills: Basic Examination, Bandaging, Splinting, Basic Herbalism

Familiar: Wiretalied Swallow, Name: L'hon. Black wings, with red cap, white belly.

Pictures:http://home.sprintmail.com/~awiner/images/w-t-swallow.jpeg

http://home.tiscali.nl/~jvanderw/gambia02/wiretailedswallow.jpg"

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