Born to a name long forgotten by history, The Voideye was a part of the Seeker clan of Ahazura and close childhood friends with the eventual King Parzival the first. During his Journey at the age of twelve, a solitary pilgrimage in which Seeker clan boys traveled the Dragonscale Mountains in search of truth and manhood, The Voideye was struck by the weave of Mythstral.

He was alone on the summit of Calenfall, when Mythstral tore the hole in reality to allow magic into our plane. A burst of pure magic ripped through the young boy’s body. It changed him, both mentally and physically, shocking his youthful hair to a shade of faded silver, and changing his right eye from its normal green to a deep and dark purple shot with streaks of white lightening.

The Voideye returned to his clan having seen more than simple truth. In fact, he could now peer inside the flow of fate and with time would become a powerful prophet. The Fey Lord Archron sent one of his Pupils to teach The Voideye when rumor spread of his unintentional goddess-given gift.

After Parzival became chief of the Seekers and began to travel the continent on his rise to king, The Voideye was ever at his side, guiding him. Together, they saw Parzival to the first throne of Ahazura and rallied the people against the Lich King’s invasion.

After the war was won, Parzival created The Wandering Seekers, a group of elite warriors, arcane masters, and fleeting shadows to act as the king’s hands throughout the kingdom. He named The Voideye as Eidolon, the highest rank of the Wandering Seekers and the King’s right hand.

For the next forty years, The Voideye advised the king in all manners and led the Wandering Seekers, helping to create a golden age of unity on the continent of Ahazura. At the time of Parzival’s death, The Voideye had come to be known throughout the world as the most powerful man alive. And when his king had passed, he abdicated his position to Harrod the Hammer who, much like The Voideye had been to Parzival, was a close friend to the new king, Parzival the second.

Having left the service of his kingdom, the Voideye returned to his nomadic roots, traveling the lands of this world and others as a Wiseman. Some say he still walks to this day, guiding the strands of time and fate and advising those who find themselves in need..

Born to a Fey Lord and a council woman for King Jarel of Selea, the Prisoner came from noble beginnings. He was 16 when the voices of the gods began to speak to him. Within the year, the voices had taught him to gaze into the strands of time and fate. His mother used his gift to ingratiate herself with the king and after some sound and proven advice, the Prisoner found himself honored to receive his own council seat.

At the age of 20, the Prisoner decided that his physical sight was impeding his full connection to the strands of time. So, he had a tattoo of a purple and white eye drawn upon his forehead, invoking the wisdom of The Voideye. He then plucked out his eyes and bound his face in strips of deep blue cloth.

Physically blind, but still able to “see” through his gift, the Prisoner immersed himself in the flow of time. Each moment that played before him, split into a million fractured paths. He would spend days at a time following these paths, watching the lives of those around him unfold in every imaginable way.

It was in these reveries that he saw the nexus of fate that had gathered around his mother and her machinations. He warned the king of her plans to make herself queen and advised the king to confine her to the dungeons.

For his loyalty, the Prisoner was awarded the seat at the King’s right hand. For the next several years, where the king went the Prisoner was close behind. Jarel grew to rely heavily on the Prisoner’s sight, even more so once Selea went to war with Baldock.

From the beginning, the Prisoner was staunchly opposed to the war. For the first time, the King ignored his advice. The Baldoccian empire and the Selean monarchy had long held an uneasy truce on the mineral-rich islands between the continents. But the new emperor of Baldock had been testing the patience and resolve of King Jarel by mining in Selean territory.

It was a conflict that the Prisoner could see opportunity in. He begged the king for peaceful negotiations, promising a way forward that benefitted both rulers. But the Baldoccians had offended the King’s honor and pride.

Five years later, around the time of the Prisoner’s 30th birthday, King Jarel was planning an assault on Fort Nalkor, a Baldoccian stronghold on the islands. The Prisoner watched as several fractures of time solidified into one as the king made his announcement to the council. He warned the king of what he had seen, the king’s death and turmoil in Selea.

Heedless of the warning, the king left the capitol and sailed on Fort Nalkor. Two weeks later, when the siege had proven to be a swift and crushing victory for Selea, the king marched back into his throne room and demanded the Prisoner’s arrest. He accused the Prisoner of plotting against him, sowing seeds of doubt to seize power, much like his mother had. He ordered the Keepers to immediately begin striking the Prisoner’s name from the histories and records.

The Prisoner went peacefully to the dungeons, have seen this as a possibility in many of time’s branches. And when the guards came later that same night to inform him that the king had been assassinated in his bed chambers, he was even less surprised. Of course, a powerful sorcerer who had been accused of treason and imprisoned in the same day as the King’s murder led the guards to an easy suspect.

The "evidence" was overwhelming and a council in the midst of political uncertainty needed someone to blame. So, the Prisoner was publicly sentenced to death.

But the Prisoner never made it to the gallows. Those who saw and survived his day of execution called it a spectacle; an unreal escape. As the guards advanced into his cell, the Prisoner swiftly evaded the shackles and killed the men. He dodged blade, arrow, and spell alike, never once being touched or hindered on his dash from the dungeons.

No one knows what happened to him after that day. Some believe he went to the war front to harass and impede the Selean effort for their King’s betrayal. Some say he searched for and maybe found the fabled, immortal Voideye, hoping to learn from the first master of prophecy.

Born the only daughter and the youngest of five children to King Graygor Inkwell of Carime. Her family had risen to wealth and power by becoming the first business to mass scribe books. Being the youngest and a woman, Gundrun knew that she would never gain the real power of her father’s name. So, she made herself content and carved out a spot for herself in the family business, finding and training new scribes.

On her 19th birthday, she was informed by her father that she was to marry Dagda Steelbreaker. The aging tycoon owned mining operations on every continent and his influence was beginning to challenge the king. So, to make peace, the king saw the marriage as the best way forward.

They were married later that year, on a crisp, early winter night. During the post-wedding feast, a fire broke out in one of the King’s book depositories, so he, his sons, and his two grandsons all left to oversee the rescue of their men and property.

By the time the feast had ended, no one had yet returned. Dagda collected her gently and took her to bed. When the marriage was officially consummated, and Gundrun lay anxiously awaiting news of her families return, Dagda informed her that they would not be coming home.

While her father and brothers fought desperately to save the warehouse, Dagda’s men descended upon them. A fierce but quick battle ensued. The Inkwells, having been caught off-guard, were slaughtered. After Gundrun and Dagda had retired to their chambers, his men finished off the rest of the Inkwell family. It was a clean job on Dagda’s part, and no evidence survived to pin the murders on him.

As the sole surviving heir of House Inkwell, the monarchy passed to Gundrun. And, as the husband of Gundrun, the kingship now belonged to Dagda Steelbreaker. The new king told Gundrun that someday she would understand and maybe even thank him for saving the kingdom.

She became a stepmother to his 3 grown children, all older than she was. Over the next few years, she became an unwilling mother to two children of her own. The king raised these children to despise their mother and be as ruthless in their affairs as he.

Outwardly, the woman appeared broken, shattered by the loss of her family. For years, she was a dutiful if not sullen and silent wife and mother.

On the night of their 10th wedding anniversary, Gundrun made a special dinner for the king. It was an old family recipe and one of the few remaining memories of her mother. A special night deserved a special meal, she told the king.

Pleased with the effort his wife was making, the king cleared his schedule and the two sat down together for their meal. It was a thick and hearty stew and before Gundrun had even begun eating the king had finished his bowl. He gushed to his wife over the delectable flavor and demanded another bowl.

Gundrun served him herself and as he eagerly dug in, she draped herself across his shoulders. She told him how pleased she was that he enjoyed her work. When he asked her what was in it, she began listing the ingredients, whispering them slowly in his ear as he ate. The final ingredient was the meat and she told him that it was the choicest cuts of his children and grandchildren.

His chewing faltered as he tried to process what she had just said. But before he could react, he felt the bite of cold steel slip between his shoulders. He roared in anger and tried to spin on Gundrun but she moved faster. She retracted the knife and stabbed several more times in quick succession.

As the king collapsed at her feet, she smiled and told him that someday he would understand and maybe even thank her for saving the kingdom.

As the highest-ranking, surviving member of the Steelbreaker family, Gundrun was named queen. She shed her married name and called herself Inkwell again. The act earned her the moniker the Queen of Vengence, and though her guilt was apparent, the kingdom celebrated the return of House Inkwell.

She married a couple years later, though this time she retained the power as queen, and the two had a son. She ruled until her death, leading the kingdom through a time of prosperity under her firm yet gentle hands.

The Baldoccian Empire was a machine that ran on blood and gold. After the Rupture had left the continent scarred and broken, the families of wealth rose to power. They used their money to rebuild the continent to their liking. The head of the richest of these families, The Farfields, was named as emperor. Below him, he named a Chief and the Board, a selection of the other families who had helped him become emperor.

One of these families created the Sybil Church, a religious organization that twisted the words of the Prophetess Artemis. They pushed the law of the new empire, little more than a call for unrestrained capital gain, as gods-given doctrine. This two-fold beat the message of “profits begets progress” into the people of Baldock.

The Emperor and his board stripped the family names from all citizens. Only those who could generate business and afford to register their family were allowed to own a family name. They also instituted the system of “sub-chits”, little bits of crystal that were meticulously created and tracked by enchanters. Companies would embed these chits into the skin on the backs of people’s hands and arms. With a simple wave of their chit wand, they could easily determine if a person had paid their fees, subscriptions, and even taxes and tolls.

Dorian Runesong, born Dorian H82R5 in the year 2112 P.R., was raised in a religious, lower-middle class family. He was brought up to believe in a true Baldoccian way of life; that all talents are gifts from the gods, and a wasted gift is heresy and a drain on society.

He was a gifted musician with a bright future. At the age of 21 he married his longtime sweetheart, Alexandria. They had big plans for their family. They both had scrimped and saved and were planning on buying a family name, and a real house. They would have children who would carry their name and be proud of their empire.

But on the night of Dorian’s first headlining performance, some people in the crowd took offense at some of Dorian’s lyrics. They cornered Dorian and his wife after the show and called for the guards, accusing the couple of heresy against the empire.

One of the guards made a grab at Alexandria. Dorian reacted blindly and swung his lulfe, a stringed instrument of elvish make, at the guard’s head. The mob descended on him and beat him unconscious.

He was informed by the arbiter at his sentencing the next day that his wife had not survived the “justice” of the night before. For his crimes of heresy and assault on a company man, Dorian was sentenced to a probationary period of 15 years corporate service.

For all of those 15 years, Dorian played the apologetic and reformed Baldoccian. He woke every morning with the sun, worked for free with Tillman’s Farms until dark, then returned to his corporate housing every night. When he was released, Dorian calculated the fees owed for his probationary period. He found that even if he payed his full weekly wages until he died, he would still owe money to the empire.

Over the next couple years, Dorian saved every extra gold he could until he had enough for a used lulfe. He spent every extra hour he had, often staying up until the early hours of the morning, practicing and relearning his craft.

One night, when he felt he was ready, he left his apartment for what he assumed would be the last time. He made his way to the center square of Halkor, the capital city of Baldock. Once there, he pulled the lulfe from his back and played, a free and unpermitted show.

A crowd began to gather, intrigued with the impromptu performance and the skill of the bard. Dorian sang of revolution; of using your gifts not for the pursuit of gain but for the joy of creation. He sang of a country free from wealthy tyrants and of a people who made progress through compassion and understanding. He weaved melody and harmony with masterful precision drawing a surprising amount of support from the crowd.

Of course, there were plenty there who disagreed with the musician and angry shouts tried to silence him. But Dorian continued to play, emboldened by the supportive voices.

Tensions built until violence suddenly erupted in the crowd. His audience turned against each other, throwing fists as often as words. And still Dorian played.

The commotion drew the attention of the guard. Several charged into the fracas, throwing spells and trying to break up the riot. A few charged down the bard, screaming for him to stop immediately.

And still Dorian played.

The guards drew their weapons and fought their way towards the musician. They encircled him and gave him one last warning to cease and desist. But it is the dream of every great bard to not only recite history, but to make it; to break the cycle of the world, ending one age and beginning a new. And, one way or another, tonight would be an end for Dorian.

As the guards ran him through with their swords and his fingers began to falter, his thoughts turned one final time to his wife and the life of which they dreamed. It was a life that seemed foreign to him now, an impossibility.

Seeing the bard collapse, dead, his supporters in the crowd surged. The riot quickly spread from the square to encompass the city, and from there the seeds of rebellion spread to the rest of the empire. Dorian’s show and death lit a fuse that had been growing shorter and shorter with every passing day.

He may not have been the first voice to raise and be silenced in criticism of the empire, but his songs were credited with starting the Baldoccian Revolution. For his sacrifice, the rebels posthumously awarded him the family name of Runesong.