DnD Characters

Dunalderan "Duncan" (art en route)

Dunalderan was born in a simple hut crafted out of vines and fern branches elevated off the forest floor, hidden from the outside world in the treetops. This community of druids built its civilisation into the tops of the tree canopy, their houses connected by rope bridges to each other and by ladders to the forest floor. They gathered berries and roots from the forest floor and hunted the local animal for their evening meals. A nomadic community that dismantled their houses when food became scarce or the cult found them again...

Dunalderan's birth was an event, to say the least. He had to be rotated in the womb so that his head was facing the right way and, even then, the shamans and druids of the community had to rally to ease the painful birth. A baby boy was born, screaming at the top of his lungs. The mother, tired and sweaty after an ordeal of a night, holds the screaming babe in her arms while the healers close her wounds. With heaving lungs, she spends her last bit of energy to stroke the child's head and names him. Everyone took interest in this baby, as being positioned feet first in the womb was a well-known omen of possible greatness. The elder of the tribe took the baby to clean it, only to discover lumps growing out of the baby's head. Covering the lumps back up with hair, the elder takes a mental note to keep an eye on this boy, just for now.

His mother thought she was having a fever dream when she saw an older man visit her and her son on the night of his birth, so decided to keep it to herself. However, there was no denying the aura the old man brought with him and the power that just radiated off of him. 

As Dunalderan grew up, he learnt very quickly what he needed to survive in the wilderness, which berries were poisonous, when and what to hunt for its meat, how to make clothing from the hides of animals. It turned out he had a natural gift for communicating with the natural world. Also, it turned out that the lumps on the top of his head were the beginnings of antlers, horns just like a stag growing from his scalp, possibly even his skull. They hurt if you pulled on them and they dropped off is they ever became damaged but they always grew back, making Dunalderan an outcast among his peers. The village druids, on the other hand, saw this as a sign. A blessing from the gods telling them that the boy was destined for great things and was in need of training. They introduced him to the magic that they possessed and gave him the option of joining their ranks, to become a druid and use his newfound powers to protect their colony, from what he wasn't told.

He accepted their offer, honing his magical abilities and being introduced to the creatures of the wilderness. It turned out that as part of his magic, he could control his body, transforming into certain creatures that roamed the forest he called home. He enjoyed this. It allowed him to blend in with the natural environment and it meant that he could communicate with the animals that he felt so close to. His training continued into his twenties, where he showed very quickly that he was smart and capable enough to become a high ranking druid, maybe even an elder to his community one day. Everyone saw the potential in him and they were proud that their community managed to produce such a prodigy.

As he was growing up, Dunalderan noticed that the community moved around often and it was something that didn't bother him as it was just the norm. He got to explore new areas and discover new creatures as they travelled the continent. One of the things he noticed though was. as he got older, the community uprooted more often and the adults became more suspicious and prejudiced against outsiders. Curious, Dunalderan went to his mother and asked her for the truth, knowing that out of his two parents, his mother was the most likely to give him the answers he sought. At first, she denied anything was different and called him things like 'silly' for thinking such things, but he could see flashes of fear in her face. Desperate for answers, he tried to strike up a seemingly casual conversation with his peers and the older adults, trying to glean any information he could from them, but they seemed either as clueless as him, or changed the conversation, uncomfortable with the topic. The village was keeping something from him and he was determined to find out what.