Lysanthir Beastbane Champion Lore
Aravia is the grandest civilization in Teleria. But even this prosperous place has its untamed lands, places where wild animals roam free and the hardy people have little to no contact with the glittering cities or even the outlying villages. Lysanthir grew up here, where there is nothing but hills and grassland and tundra. The land is owned by the crown because no noble wants it, and even then the few inhabitants are largely free from interference, save the occasional demand for trackers and scouts in times of war.
Even among his people, one so attuned with the natural world, Lysanthir possessed incredible skill. When he was a child he learned to read the landscape and follow animal trails with uncanny speed, focused in a way his few peers couldn’t remotely match. Regardless of the season, no matter how far away from home his parents left him to challenge his skill, he always returned with a fresh catch of deer or fish for supper. Lysanthir proved himself beyond all doubt when, while still in his mid-teens, he killed a rockmane lion as well as a great mountain roc in a single expedition. From then on he took the two animals as his symbols, and his parents said they would no longer shelter him, for he no longer needed them. This abandonment was a rite of passage for all wildland Elves, and a new lease of freedom for the young Lysanthir.
He sought new challenges, new places to explore, new beasts to track. He made for the City of Aravia, in search of opportunities. The city was a shock to him. There were many different peoples, riots of colors in loud, busy markets, shouting and crying and arguing. For an Elf used to his own company, who had endured much physical and mental hardship to survive, the Elves of the capital were akin to a different species. They lacked his ruggedness and his willingness to endure, but that meant they needed him. He quickly found work hunting predators that threatened livestock and other beasts, and was so effective his reputation grew rapidly.
Agents of the Aravian crown came to Lysanthir, among them Wallmaster Othorion, with kill lists. On them were monsters, Demonspawn, Undead, almost all of them beyond Felwin’s Wall, some beyond Anhelt. Furthermore, he was granted authorization and funding to commandeer resources as needed. Among those he slew were L’Beriit Razormaw, a Demonspawn horror with mouths for eyes, hands, and feet, and a necromancer called Angma Maiyu, who snatched people from their beds, butchered them, then stitched their corpses together to create enormous Undead constructs. In the process Lysanthir won contacts and allies on his travels, who knew him as ‘Beastbane’.
All Lysanthir’s efforts were ground to a halt during an infiltration of Durham Forest. Not by some pincered giant insect or man-sized carnivorous flower, but by a needletick. The creature, no larger than a gnat, nibbled its way into his robes as he slept and bit his face around his eyes dozens of times. Lysanthir woke in agony, scratching at the bite marks, the venom from which blinded him, turned his skin gray, and disfigured him.
Lysanthir had to relearn his craft — his other senses had to make up for his lack of sight. His hearing and smell were already well-attuned, but they were not good enough. He spent weeks with mages and apothecaries to enhance his capabilities and trained himself with martial arts and fencing experts to move and fight without his sight. Lysanthir dedicated every waking hour for many months to training, enduring the frustration and pains of repeated failure. But he learned, just as he had as a child. His lack of sight came to no longer be a barrier to him. To further proof himself against his vulnerabilities, he had a heavily bladed staff forged of Aravian steel and enchanted by sonomancers. The weapon emanated subtle vibrations that bounced off everything around. With the mages’ training, Lysanthir learned how to interpret the returning signal so he could build a mental picture of his surroundings.
The Beastbane decided to travel further away than ever before to test whether he really had overcome his injuries. He first made for Gloomdeep Hold, where he had a Dwarf friend, a skilled smith and runekeeper, etch invisible runes of cleaving, fortune, balance, and hunting into his weapon’s blades. Then he traveled to the Lost Isles, where a great many beasts of renown were said to dwell.
One particular story, corroborated in inns and taverns, spoke of a great many-headed terror that dwelled at the bottom of the Void Reef in the western Lost Isles. It piqued Lysanthir’s interest. He commandeered a large Dwarven whaler, the Wavepiercer, and hired a crew of shark-hunters from Yakai to join him.