[hider= Goblins]
Name: Goblins, Gobblers, Sand People, [i]Trayiis[/i]
Location: Trayig's Soul
Purpose: Survival
Description:
There are two varieties of goblin, though most people would have no way to know this, since one type of them is nearly never seen.
First, the common goblins that everyone knows and loves. These creatures are three to four feet tall lizard-like people with large snake-like heads and great ears (at least on the males) that can extend up to 1.5 feet.
The only hair on their scaly bodies tends to be around the jawline, though it is not unheard of to find goblins with a full head of hair and some, for the sake of needing distinguishing features to be recognized by other races, style their beards and hair into ornate braided masterpieces.
As far as colors go, most goblins are muted earth colors. A golden sand-like tone is most common, though only because the clan that is colored in such a way is the most populous and most likely to be seen mingling with other sentient species. However, when startled or threatened or in battle, goblin skin takes on startlingly-vivid colors which seems to be unrelated to clan. Purples, blues, reds, greens (very few yellows, though) make goblin battles colorful spectacles to behold.
Goblins can operate either quadruped or bipedal. Their long (3-4 feet) tails provide them excellent balance in bipedal form, though they look a bit awkward with their long feet, raptor-like inner toes, and reverse ankles. These feet give them excellent purchase on loose material (such as sand), though, so they are not often hampered by the environment and can even run across water for short distances.
But those are just the little guys. For every few dozen thousand of them, there's what they like to call [i]"Trayiis Dragons"[/i]; not dragons in the literal sense, but huge fearsome creatures full of powerful magicks that can lay as much devastation as their more-proper (and better-known) brethren.
Descriptions of these huge beasts live on in song and a few written historical records, but most who get the wonderful joy of seeing them don't live to confirm the stories. Unlike the smaller of their species, these creatures are expansive: their length can reach 120 feet, and their heads become cavernous maws 20 feet wide when opened. Their limbs are vestigial, and they move instead by writhing their huge masses through the ground like snakes. Their powers, due to the scarcity of sightings, aren't well-known, though songs tell of swallowing caravans whole, battering walls down with their huge skulls, and popping out of the ground with seismic force that knocks down whole armies.
Due to the fact that they're rarely seen even when one visits a goblin clan, they are suspected (correctly) to live underground in vast networks of tunnels that they've burrowed.

Magic:
Such a division between the strong and the common goblins is due to an interesting system that they've been practicing for centuries. The size and magical capabilities of the larger goblins make no sense otherwise: how can a species with hundreds of thousands of individuals still have such concentrated magic? The answer lies in their particular handling of death.
Goblins, for as long as they can remember, have had a ceremony for the dead. It's very simple, though most other cultures find it repugnant. Namely, they eat their dead. Well, not the population at large; they feed their recently deceased to their large brethren.
This has led to a large binary in magical power. Common goblins have next to no magic (due to the magic not re-entering the system to be passed on to the newborn young) and the goblin dragons have all the magic of 36,000 living things.
This has led to some problems for common goblins. They have to live in places with large saturations of life-giving magic, or else they perish. Their bodies don't hold enough magic for them to survive alone. They can survive even in inhospitable areas if they have enough living things to eat or a heavily-magical being that they can use to sustain themselves.
Before dying, a common goblin will eat as many magical/living things as possible, which eventually led to them being called "gobblers", which in turn became "goblins". It does this so that its body may be as saturated with magic as possible for when it is integrated into a goblin dragon. Though they only manage to absorb a very small amount of the magic of things that they eat, common goblins can extend their lives by doing this, and eventually (having consumed enough) may be able to attain a self-sustainable magical balance. There's no recorded history of such a thing happening.
The closest thing to magic that common goblins have is a very basic emotion-based telepathy. Common goblins will know if another goblin is nearby, or if a nearby goblin is frightened, in pain, or dead. This makes goblins especially difficult pests to eradicate, since no one wants to deal with the swarms of goblins that will come to claim the dead body (and possibly get revenge).

Racial Benefits:
Common goblins are affected by magic a little less than creatures with normal magic balance. They are immune to many spells, untargetable for most homing spells (which home on the magical signature of the target), and invisible to magical sight (which makes them slightly difficult to see for magical races, which often subconsciously see in the magic realm).
Common goblins are generally left alone. Killing a goblin is more trouble than it’s worth, goblins are somewhat difficult to see for magically-attuned people, and they’re a bit dangerous when cornered.
Common goblins are sneaky. They tend to be difficult to detect with situational awareness (you’ll never “feel” them watching you, or “feel” them sneaking up on you (both premonitions provided by subconscious magical sense). Their large feet also make their walking quiet, and their short stature makes them easy to overlook.
As a race, goblins get along very well with the classical “evil” races. Whether this is due to some long-past evil alignment the goblins held, their mild telepathy, or just the fact that it’s better to be nice to them than not, no one can quite remember. It’s not unusual to see goblins riding semi-sentient “evil” races as mounts or conversing casually with orcs.
Common goblins are very good in mounted combat (atop their worg steads, most commonly).
Goblins have enhanced senses due to their very large ears and eyes.

Racial Demerits:
Common goblins will die if there is no magical field around them to sustain them. No goblins live on the Black Mountains, they generally can’t live alone (unless the area has large potential magic or a great deal of forestation), and yet at the same time they’re not great to have around. Living alone with a goblin has been shown to seriously decrease life expectancy in non-planar-connected people (and this is without taking into account that the goblin will try to eat whatever is nearby if it runs out of magic).
Common goblins cannot use magic.
Goblins have reduced senses of touch.
Goblins almost lack the ability to thermoregulate. They are technically cold-blooded creatures, though in a large enough magical field goblins innately stabilize their body heat with that magic. A goblin in extreme cold/heat will die of magical starvation much faster than one in a normal environment.
Common goblins are not particularly strong on their own, due to their small stature and relatively-weak body strength.

Life expectancy:
Common: 20 years in a goblin clan, vastly-varying lengths among other species (goblins attached to powerful sorcerers tend to live until their master dies).
Dragon: 500-1200 years, depending on the size of the attending goblin clan.

History:
Goblins have been a part of the ecology of Neyav as long as anyone can remember. The oldest dragons can recall seeing goblins in their youth, and might, if their memories still serve them well at this point, recall the horrible wars that constantly waged over the then-potent Sands as goblin kind fought to maintain their control over their sacred lands. But that was indeed very long ago, and since then much of the world has changed. No longer are crusades to the Sands thought of, no longer do people remember the strange wyrm-like monstrosities that came out of the war. But all the same, the goblins have been left mostly to their own devices, to roam the Sands and hunt and mind their own business.
Once trading evolved from the primitive survivalist cultures of the dominant races, goblins once more came to the public conscience. Slowly they filtered into society, claiming their places as thieves, guides, familiars, glassblowers, and all sorts of other positions. Though some would see them as pests or as an inferior race to subjugate as slaves, the sheer numbers of the goblins who steadily infiltrated their cities and towns at least made action on these opinions inadvisable.

Culture:
Goblins have the highest respect for magic. For them, there’s no more-worthy calling in life than to serve a great magical being well, eat it upon its death, and return to their home clan to integrate this magic into their own kind.
The central unit of a goblin clan is a goblin dragon. In the case that a common goblin strays far from its home, though, any other very-powerful magical being will do. Such masters provide them the magic they need to survive and protection from what might otherwise easily kill them. In return, a goblin will do its best to assist this great being: they are skilled hunters, quiet assassins, magic-resistant body guards.
Goblin clans often integrate mount animals into their community. They have a special affinity for worg, it would seem; it is not unusual to find a large pack of these over-sized ferocious wolves mingling symbiotically with a goblin clan.

As familiars:
Having a goblin familiar is a great testament to the power of a mage. Though not as exotic as most familiars (goblins themselves are common, certainly more-so than pixies, phoenixes, and miniature dragons), they are well-known in magic circles as the most-picky. Only very strong wizards have access to enough magic to enamor and feed a goblin.
Goblins also make very competent familiars: though not a magical race themselves (unlike almost all other types of familiar), their magic resistance makes them survive the ordeals that would kill most other non-magical familiar-wannabes. Combined with their intelligence, fierce loyalty, long lifespans around mages, and all-around handiness, they are some of the most enviable creatures a mage can claim (right under miniature dragons, because hey, [i]dragons[/i]).
Of course, there is the little bothersome fact that they will try to eat you when you die, but this too is a great honor (though most don’t appreciate it). Understand that if you take a goblin familiar, your family and friends will not have anything more than sucked-dry crushed-up bones to bury.
[/hider]

[hider=Dssialii]
Essential Information
Name/Aliases: Dssialii (d’saisle’E)
Sex: Male
Race: Trayii
Age: 21

Appearance:
Dssialli hails from a clan of almost-sea-colored goblins from the southern coastal regions of the Sands. When the light catches his scales just right, the green shows through unmistakably, though, like all goblins, in normal circumstances his color appears earthy (though it’s slightly-moldy earth). His alert color is an almost-painfully-saturated purple that gradates to a pinkish-red at his extremities and around his eyes.
Though most people can’t really tell the difference between one goblin and another, other goblins would tell you that Dssialli is handsome in an aggressive sort of way. His head is quantitatively shorter and sharper than average, and the natural lay of his very-long ears is low and straight. Only a visually-impaired, joking, or odd goblin (or his deceased wife) would describe him as “cute”, though when you’re a short race with large eyes and expressive ears, larger races invariably will call you that.
He’s not unusually-tall for his race and clan, though he does stand at the taller end of the spectrum at 3’10” (wow, much height, so goblin, such stature).
You’d be best off distinguishing him using his lack of facial hair (unusual for a goblin who spends time among other species), the dark ribbing in his ears, the darkness of his hands from burning the scales constantly, or the dark scars along his snout where scales were ripped out for his marriage ceremony.
When he's not wearing his work clothes (a simple protective leather apron and bug-eyed goggles), Dssialii is either naked or, when he needs to travel and carry things and generally be out among people, wearing his add cloak. It consists of two parts, a clasped short cloak in a slightly-light shade of green topped by a wide-collared cape with a split down the middle. This cape is white on one side and green on the other. He also wears a belt across his chest (under the cape, but above the cloak) with slots on the back to hold his various possessions and a hook onto which he can attach his crossbow. This is all covered nicely by the cape (though if one is familiar with how thin a goblin should look, the crossbow makes him suspiciously thick).

Personality:
Dssialli is, contrary to his aggressive bearing, pretty easy-going. That’s not to say that he has a cool temper, but if you don’t give him any reason to take offense or get angry with you, he can be a great buddy. He’s fairly reliable, and communicative when he’s feeling cross or under-the-weather (possibly too communicative: he doesn’t seem to understand that just because he’s feeling down doesn’t mean that everyone wants to know why).
On a good day, he’s as smiley and cheerful as one could ask, though he doesn’t go beyond that “oh that’s nice he’s feeling well” line onto “oh gosh WHY IS HE SO HAPPY?” unless he’s had particularly-good fortune. Or unless he’s drunk. If you stay around him long enough to head to a tavern with him, you’ll see just why goblins have little problem chewing their food (yes, those are two rows of teeth. Yes, they are all very sharp. Yes, it’s scary as heck to look at a laughing goblin).
On a bad day, once you get past his explanation that he’s not feeling wonderful, he’s not even that bad. He can still smile, he can still not be a drag. Just don’t get him angry, and keep him away from the liquor. He’s lost a few friends to violent bouts when they thought cheering him up with drinks was a good idea.
But hey, if you’re mindful of his moods and run when you see him start turning purple, there’s little to stop him from being a good friend.

History:
“Sorry, I’m just not feeling great today.” The goblin examines the glasses with an expert eye and shrugs. “Shouldn’t be too much of a problem. 70 copper.”
You hand over the money (or rather, hand it down; putting stuff on goblin-sized counters is somewhat difficult, and who even knew that there was a goblin grocer in this town with a suitable hearth for glass-melting temperatures?) and prepare to peruse the aisles to pass the time, but as he turns away the green-tinted glass blower doesn’t stop talking.
“Is just one of those days when you remember happier times. You ever been married?” You shake your head (because, really, what is up with this group of adventurers? A bunch of ineligible bachelors or something!) politely, not particularly caring to listen to the goblin’s life story, but hey, you weren’t particularly planning on buying anything from the grocer, either, so this worked. “Well let me tell you; you find a good woman, and life is something new. Every day you wake up, turn over, and realize with elation that that’s [i]your wife[/i], the love of your life, nested with you, and you’re hers until you die. Every day you make amazing memories, and they don’t even have to be of anything special. Maybe she nibbles on your ear while you poke at the clock, and you never forget. Maybe you spend all morning talking about filling up the nest with tadpoles, and then decide ‘nah, let’s put it off and go on a vacation instead’. And so you go on vacation, and she looks stunning splashing about in the waves, and you smile indulgently as you try to stay dry on the shore. Or maybe she comes down to the forge one day whilst you work and she leans against it and then recoils at the heat and you can’t help but bust yourself laughing at the look on her face as her color slowly cools back down to normal.”
Is he still talking? You glance back at him from the shelf of poorly-printed wanted ads (you’d think they’d go to the trouble of buying a few more ‘w’ for the printing press, since one didn’t really cut it when you had to write “Wanted” and “reward” on the same page, and when your criminal’s name was “Winford Willifred”, it was especially bad), but he’s working away while talking, so at least he’s not just wasting your time.
“And then she dies.” You glance over at him again, something about the way he said that catching you by surprise, but he’s still leaning studiously over his work, peering carefully through a jeweler’s glass and rubbing a cloth across your glasses. “And you’re left alone. And this loneliness is different than before you met her, because now you know what you’re missing. And every time the glass reflects your image back to you, you see your marriage vows in a black scar across your face, and you think of her. And every time your ear itches, you think of her. And every time you wake, and turn over, and the nest is empty, you think of her. The waves, the sand, the hearth, it all reminds you of her. Of happier times. And then, tada, there you are, fixing someone’s glasses and pitiably weighing down the poor youth with depressing stories.” He quickly glances at you and then holds the glasses up to the light, his tongue sliding out to rub over his top lip.
“Hmmmm, well let’s talk of something less depressing.” He puts the glasses carefully into the forge for a few seconds. “Not quite done with those yet. Let’s see… well, how about this. You ever been on a hunt? A real-life, magnificent tussle with some wondrous beast of the sands, atop your trusty worg friend, your clanmates at your side? No? Hmph.” His face takes on a disapproving grumpiness as if he wonders what they teach children in schools these days (though, from what you know of goblin life spans, you’re probably actually older than he, which has made this whole thing just that little bit more awkward), but he turns back to the forge and his work and lets you look elsewhere for the time being.
“Well you should some day, it’s magnificent. Nothing to get the blood pumping through you like that. I still remember my first time… haha, who doesn’t remember their first? It was right after the first heavy rains of the season. ‘Welp, you’re old enough for your first hunt now!’ my aunt told me, and shoed me off to mount Krasdiskl, and woosh, off I went to catch up with the hunters.”
You expected him to go on, but silence lasted a few moments, and when you turned back he was getting up from his squat and bringing your glasses over. Quickly counting the copper you’d left on the counter, he handed up his end of the bargain when he was satisfied you’d fulfilled yours. “Now you have a nice day, and don’t go breaking those again. Not that I’d mind, but I’m not gonna give you a better price next time just cuz you can’t take care of superior craftsmanship.”

Optional Information
Equipment:
(1) Repeating Crossbow [four-bolt magazine, manual lever-style cycle, schematics incoming]
(1) 6-foot iron-tipped spear [non-barbed spearhead, shaft made of a sturdy, heavy dark wood from the jungle]
(1) Pouch each of two powders which, when combined, burn at > 3000 degrees Fahrenheit [used in the manufacturing of glassware, both powders magical in nature]
(1) Compass
(6) Relatively-accurate (though now 5-12 years old) maps of the major regions of Enduwin[created by yours truly, possibly not so accurate as he’d claim, but serviceable][does not include maps for Uacteir Balla, Ju’ra, Bolecawn, or Olc Cairn]
(1) Dual-range ocarina, made of glass [Dssialii’s finest work, and he couldn’t stand to part from it… he’s even learned how to play it okay-ish]
(1) Set of instruments for the blowing and forming of glass [includes a leather heat-resistant smock and eye protection]
(1) Long fire-darkened glass pipe
(1) Bag of southern mage weed [an incredibly potent magical hallucinogenic typically used by shaman-style mages to go on vision trips. Doesn't have much effect on goblins, though since it's the most potent thing they Dssialii can get his hands on to smoke, they tend to pick it.]

Marital Status: Widowed
Magic (Mundane or Arcane): N/A
Skills:
About as-good a hunter as all of his kind. In his own opinion, a fantastic glass worker (and hey, someone must agree with him since he’s managed to make a living this far). A not-too-shabby cartographer with a very good sense of direction and scale. Can carry a tune singing and on his ocarina (finally). Knows how to read and right Common. Common goblin racial skills.
[/hider]

[hider=Faeri]Name: Faeri
Location: Zephyr Plains
Description:
Faeri are small (2-12 inches tall) flying creatures. They have 5 limbs: two arms, two wings, and a tail.
Each wing is a three-ribbed batlike membrane about as wide as the Faeri is tall. When collapsed, if such a thing is possible, each rib would not be the same length: such convenience is completely unnecessary for a race that can do nothing but fly.
Their hands are slender and extremely long-fingered, exposed in bony nails at the ends. They're unpleasant to look at, though Faeri tend to be quite gentle with them, even though they lack feeling in their fingertips.
Faeri have no mouths or noses or ears. Instead, their heads are dominated by large eyes and shielded by impressive (even if tiny) antlers.
At the center of every Faeri's chest, and hanging from their tails, are incredilby-smooth tiny gems.
Most Faeri have earthen-colored skin, though their wing colors come from a diverse selection of highly-saturated rainbow-like hues. Their eyes and gems are the same colors, also highly-saturated and incredibly colorful.

Magic:
Most races wouldn't be able to survive without mouths. How, you might ask, can anything survive without eating? Well, the answer is, of course, "magic!" Those gems aren't just for show. Instead, they are powerful magical relics, from which Faeri suck the magical energy to continue living.
Being so directly-fed by magic, Faeri themselves are capable of wielding the stuff very potently. You'll never seen a "mundane" Faeri (though there are mundane Faeri, simply their definition of mundane is different than other races'), as even the weakest of them can do such useful things as levitate, attack with physical manifestations of magic, and create damage-soaking shields. Especially-gifted Faeri, especially in groups, can do everything from changing the weather to teleporting things to causing natural disasters. Good thing, then, that they generally keep to themselves.
They use their magic for the mundane, as well: instead of walking, they float along on the winds or actively levitate in one spot. They speak through the magical modulation of air particles or, more privately, through telepathy. They hear by keeping track of the brainwaves and air currents around them.

Racial Benefits:
Faeri have an improved base-line magic ability. There are no magic-less Faeri, and mundane translates to still-considerable magical control.
Faeri have heightened senses due to their connection to nature magic and telepathy.
Faeri are very good at collaborating in magic casting. There are stories of them literally moving mountains with their combined will (in fact, one of the more-heretical theories on the reason that the Plains are so flat is because the Faeri have flattened it over time).
Faeri can live for a very long time, since they will continue to function as long as there is power left in their gems.

Racial Demerits:
Faeri are highly-susceptible to magic. Their reliant nature on the stuff means that they have no defenses against it.
Faeri deplete their life span each time that they use magic, especially when there is little atmospheric magic to supplement their gems. A large job, like the aforementioned moving of a mountain, can result in the simultaneous death of hundreds of Faeri.
Faeri are fragile creatures. Their small frames are incredibly light to allow them to stay floating in slight breezes for days on end without expending magic to keep themselves afloat, and as such they have very little in the way of internal structure. A Faeri's head can easily be smashed between the fingers of an average human.
Faeri only reproduce upon finding new gems, and therefore their population fluctuates incredibly based upon supply.

History:
Faeri are one of the more-recently discovered races that inhabit Enduwin. Only with the invention of the telescope were they finally seen by thinking, communicating beings: previously, they'd hid their existence from flying mages and hot air balloons and the like very easily.
They were discovered quite on accident, and by many an astrologer at around the same time. Stargazing scientists would find their attempts to use telescopes in the Plains foiled by something blocking their sight, and upon refocusing their telescopes to see what it was, would get to see these strange tiny jewel-laiden creatures floating serenely above their heads.
Quickly, expeditions were sent into the clouds to catch one of these creatures, but all returned empty-handed until one particularly psychically-adept searcher felt the Faeri probing him and realized that they must have been scattering upon psychically picking up the search parties.
By now, paintings and stories of these strange creatures, calculated to number in the thousands and, as psychic after psychic confirmed, obviously highly sentient, had struck the public fancy. A reward was put out to catch one alive to examine it up close, and as is often the case, money prevailed. A magician managed to catch one by remotely creating a magical cage around it and then bringing the cage down (the commonly-accepted method of harvesting them still today).
Sadly, that first contact did not go well. No sooner had they begun handling the creature than one of the scientists punctured its head, instantly killing it. Thankfully, with a little more care, a live specimen was caught and kept in captivity, where it eventually began talking to its captors.
Since, Faeri have still mostly kept to themselves. A few are captured for interested wizards and scientists, but largely they are left alone, as well.
That is, until recently. The first attack happened on a sunny, cloudless day, when suddenly rain seemed to begin falling from the sky. Quickly, though, people realized that this wasn't rain: this was thousands upon thousands of magical attacks launched down from the heavens. Though each attack was relatively weak, within a fortnight nothing at all was left of the town, all of it corroded away by the steady downpour of power.
That was only the first attack. At first, no one understood what had happened, until they scoured the remains of the village. What they found scattered about there and cast over the nearby plains by the wind were hundreds of dead little bodies, lifeless jewels no longer glowing in their chests and tails.
Such scourges, followed by such mind-numbing numbers of dead Faeri, have slowly begun a sweep from the Plains to the Olc. No one is certain why it is happening, but there's been no sign that the advance is slowing, even as Faeri numbers must certainly be thinning. Towns along the edge of the scourge have begun keeping vigilant watch over the skies, ready to leave at the first signal from a watcher that the wave has arrived.[/hider]

[hider=Makathur]Name: D. Makathur (Mac A thur)
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Age: 36
Occupancy: Puppeteer, interpreter of dreams

Description:
Makathur has gotten so far partially because of his pleasant demeanor and disarming pleasantry. He just doesn’t seem like the sort of person with anything but your best interest in mind. Maybe it’s his salted beard and still-thick graying hair on a relatively-rugged face, or maybe it’s that he stands at a strong 5’11” but doesn’t make himself seem too tall or too muscular to make people uncomfortable. Maybe it’s that he wears pretty-much common clothes and a pair of spectacles that he still has to squint through if he wants to read anything. Maybe it’s the way that the wrinkles form around his brown eyes as he smiles his lopsided, yellow-tinted grin. Maybe it’s that his voice is one of those soothing ones that manages to not sound alarmingly seductive, or the way that he fiddles with his big hands until finally placing them emphatically on whoever he’s talking to in a personable (though sometimes too-much so) way. Either way, he is what he is, a lovable-looking aging man who smiles often and looks more friendly than Santa Claus when he does so.

Personality:
Makathur pretty much has the personality to go with his appearance. Or, at least, that’s the way that it seems. He’s sympathetic if you go to him with problems, gracious when other people make mistakes, good with the kids, and an altogether trustworthy person.
Or, rather, he’s not that last one, at all. Rather, he’s too easy to trust, and certainly not deserving of it. In fact, Makarthur is conniving and selfish, brilliant and cunning in only the worst ways. Even were he not a psychic, he’s one of those people with the intense sort of attitude that is particularly well-suited for strategy games, the sort of person who might stare across the board at you, obviously calculating your next fifteen moves while you try to figure out whether or not to move that pawn because the quiet smile on his face tells you that it’s entirely the wrong move, but when you went to move a knight instead the smile just became wider and now you really don’t know what to do. Except he’d be adorable and good-natured about the whole thing and you wouldn’t at all realize that you’re being played, so actually you would have moved that pawn in the first place because his smile is just too friendly to hide a malignant delight in the impending downfall of your whole game… right?
And he’s the sort of person who’ll let you almost win, just to quietly sweep your apparent victory away. Not that it would suddenly be as if he gained skill, just that what was once a close game that you were winning suddenly became a rout from which there’s no hope of retrieving even the slightest victory, and the whole thing would seem like an accident. Then again, what cat doesn’t like to play with its prey, allowing it to escape for a while only to bring down the jaws of death more certainly?
In totality, it’s fitting that Makathur found employment as a puppeteer. Controlling, acting, influencing young minds… it’s all everyday for him and perfectly in tune his personality.

History:
Every villain has a story, right? It’s not like one day people just say “You know what would be fun? [i]Killing everything![/i]” Well, that’s largely true, but then you have Makathur. There he was, chilling in some remote town doing his helpful old puppeteering and dream explaining (“I woke up from a dream where I turned into a snail!” “Really, it’s simplicity to follow such a tale. For this creature takes his shell wherever he may roam. Your life must keep you on the move; you fear your wife may disapprove! So like the snail you just remove and take along you home!”), when he was struck with an idea! A delightfully evil idea, and unlike most people, who being struck with such a fancy would quickly realize “Wait a moment, that’s evil!” apparently no such thought crossed Makathur’s mind, or if it did, he quickly decided “So what?”
He read in the paper about these magnificent creatures (the “Psychic News!” was full of stories of them) called Faeri. Magical little clouds powered by magical stones. Why, it reminded him of a shady deal he’d found while rustling about in someone’s mind. Within a few months, his plan was set to go, all he needed was to see if it would work on a small scale first.
The idea was simple. These creatures got all their energy from magical stones, and could be made to reproduce almost at-will by giving them stones (except in captivity, experiments to breed new Faeri in captivity had all been resounding failures). So, thought Makathur, what if he were to provide the Faeri with corrupted stones? There was a market that sold such things, already: stones that were designed by enchanters specifically to be attuned to the magics of the purchaser. What then, if this stone were used by a Faeri to reproduce?
The first test was a resounding success. Within a week, Makathur could talk to the new life from across the plains, to convince it that he was its benefactor, and bend it to his will. With his pleasant smile plastered too-widely over his face, he began to set about executing his plan on a large scale.
But that would require a lot of magical stones, which would require a lot of money. Thankfully, when you were not only able to interpret dreams but also induce them (a talent he’d never really found good use for), making money was not really a problem. But soon there was little profit to be made in his town, and so he had to move. A scourge of curious dreams, demanding explanation, flowed across the country for the next few years, and wherever such explanation was needed, there Makathur would be, pleasantly providing his services.
Money became no problem, and what was once one Faeri swearing fealty to the god Makai soon became legion. What would then become known as the Great Faeri Heresy (were anyone to keep such histories of Faeri culture) happened, the newest generation nearly as one beginning to proclaim the power of their god, with great signs of magic to prove his favor for them. With no other organized religion or political system to stand against them, these Makite Faeri soon lead the entire race.
Now it was just a matter of using this potent power that he had farmed. As news of Bawzel’s return spread like wildfire, Makathur set his army in motion, a new plan which could be called “evil” forming in his head.

Magic:
Makathur is a powerful psychic, capable of mild telekinesis (which he uses to move his puppets, such a great use for such potential), mind reading (which he uses to explain dreams, geez he makes the most of his powers, doesn’t he?), and even induce dreams (which he uses to… well okay, guess he used that one decently). He’s got nothing going for him in other areas of magic, though.[/hider]

[hider=Stuckos]Name: Stuckos
Race: Faeri
Age: 4 years
Gender: N/A (Though I’ll refer to Stuckos as “he” and his mental/generated voice sounds like a girlish young boy)
Occupancy: FIGHTING EVUL HAHA YEAH!

Description:
Most people can’t really tell the difference between Faeri except by color. Stuckos is just 10 inches tall (22-inch wingspan), though he makes an oddly intimidating show of his size. His eyes are purple, and his wings a lighter shade thereof. You might as well just look at the picture, though ^.^

Personality:
Naïve, strong-hearted, and too-energetic, Stuckos is one of those over-eager youngsters who aspire to greatness long before they have any idea what evil really is. Some might find his headstrong black-and-white morals endearing, others find him annoying and tiresome.
Among his Makite peers, Stuckos has a reputation of being zealous but perhapsabitstupid. When he claimed to have been sent by Makai himself for an important mission, his elders thanked their god for his graciousness, sent Stuckos on his way, and, making sure that he was out of hearing range, let out a collective sigh of relief.
Stuckos acts like he imagines every hero should. He’ll stop to help old ladies across the street (how much help can a Faeri be, though?), he’ll yell stupid things during battle (“HA! HA! EEEEEEHA!”, even though he doesn’t actually have a mouth and firing magical bolts really isn’t that intense), and he’ll taunt evil doers while standing proudly atop the rubble of the poor people’s houses which were destroyed by EVIL (even though he doesn’t have legs, and he’s just 10 inches tall). Or, rather, he’d do that staff if he ever got the chance. He does that stuff in his mind when he thinks of himself doing heroic things. WHICH IS ALL THE TIME HE IS WELL EXPERIENCED.

History:
Like all Faeri, Stuckos started with his parent finding two nice juicy gems. “Ah, it’s time to have a baby!” Papa Faeri must have thought to itself, and so it was that Stuckos came into existence.
Too bad there was something wrong with him from the beginning. That first night, while getting the hang of its magic, suddenly Stuckos fell asleep. Papa Faeri, never having seen a sleeping Faeri, was understandably perplexed, and probably wondered what it had done wrong to result in such a miscarriage. Maybe it should have converted to that new religion that was going around, and then these things wouldn’t happen to it! Thankfully Stuckos awoke the next day as if nothing had happened, but the relief did not get to last very long for poor Papa. That night sleep visited again, and so was established the schedule of the strangest Faeri of them all. Too bad Papa had already named it Stuckos; he missed a great chance to name it Sleepy to go with all its siblings (all eleven of them), but he’d determines such a name was silly for a race that never slept or became tired.
With a little help, Stuckos was able to join normal Faeri society. Others would have to bolster him a bit as he slept, or he’d just grab onto someone else before snoozing, but it wasn’t that bad. Still meant that one day when the wind told him to go to the point of origin, everyone was slightly relieved to let him go.
Things might have been easier had Stuckos known where the Point was. And if he hadn’t needed to sleep. What should have taken maybe a week took more than three months, and now with some interesting experiences under his belt, Stuckos finally shows up to the Point… late. But there are still other people there, so this must be the adventure he’s looking for! Surely it will be even better than fighting BEARS!

Magic:
Stuckos is actually pretty good with magic, for all his other failings, contrary to what everyone had expected (“He doesn’t even have enough magic to stay awake half the time! Surely he can’t use magic!”) In addition to the normal Faeri levitation, telepathy, magic missiles, and magical shields, Stuckos has an array of weather magic at his command. He can create projectile-deflecting wind walls, can knock the feet out from underneath enemies with a well-placed gust, and can even blast things with lightning! He’s quite proud of his magical prowess, as he considers it befits a True Hero such as himself.[/hider]