Fury of the Lost One
Lecherous cleric of the Raven Queen, with a vendetta against the undead scourge.
====== Created Using Wizards of the Coast D&DI Character Builder ======
Leasath Aurelia, level 10 Human, Cleric
FINAL ABILITY SCORES Str 19, Con 14, Dex 9, Int 13, Wis 22, Cha 13.
Starting Ability Scores Str 17, Con 14, Dex 9, Int 13, Wis 18, Cha 13.
AC: 27 Fort: 22 Reflex: 21 Will: 26 HP: 76 Surges: 9 Surge Value: 19
TRAINED SKILLS Arcana, Religion, Diplomacy, Insight, History, Athletics.FEATS
- 1: Ritual Caster
- 1: Raven Queen’s Blessing
- 1: Action Surge
- 2: Armor Proficiency (Scale)
- 4: Shield Proficiency (Light)
- 6: Shield Proficiency (Heavy)
- 8: Toughness
- 10: Student of Battle
- 1, At-Will: Lance of Faith
- 1, At-Will: Righteous Brand
- 1, At-Will: Sacred Flame
- 1, Encounter: Healing Strike
- 1, Daily: Guardian of Faith
- 2, Utility: Bless
- 3, Encounter: Daunting Light
- 5, Daily: Spiritual Weapon
- 6, Utility: Bastion of Health
- 7, Encounter: Searing Light
- 9, Daily: Divine Power
- 10, Utility: Shielding Word
- Ritual Book
- Gentle Repose
- Tenser’s Floating Disk
- Animal Messenger
- Speak with Dead
- Raise Dead
- Adventurer’s Kit
- Climber’s Kit
- Magic Holy Symbol +3
- Frost Sickle +2
- Healer’s Shield Heavy Shield (heroic tier)
- Black Iron Drakescale Armor +2
- Gloves of the Healer (paragon tier)
- Healer’s Brooch +2
- Healer’s Sash (paragon tier)
- Pet raven, named Tod
While most servitors of the Raven Queen display a somber, macabre attitude, Leasath intentionally attempts to remain as cheerful and upbeat as possible. It’s not as though he has to fake this sentiment: Leasath is optimistic because because he knows that he will be protected even in death. He tries to spread this view during his adventures and while performing services at the Raven Queen’s temple.
Leasath has a nasty tendency toward lechery, a trait absorbed from his master, Lord Mortimer. While he holds a special place in his heart for Marylou, his fiery eladrin companion, he will attempt to charm any beautiful woman he meets. Unfortunately, he hasn’t had the chance for any illicit recreation thanks to the ever-intensifying Horde War, and has made very little progress in even having a conversation with Marylou that doesn’t end with him being engulfed in flames. With no women to woo since his arrival in Desia, he hasn’t been able to use his favorite pick-up line: “Hello, fair maiden. Would you like to gaze upon my Lance of Faith? “
While the manner in which Leasath displays his piety certainly differs from the norm, his superiors do not complain: he doesn’t violate any of their lady’s tenets, and his attitude has helped to bring in an influx of new worshippers hoping to meet the rising adventurer, hoping to find the same enjoyment out of life that Leasath finds. Despite his playful, carefree attitude, he immediately begins to take things more seriously whenever undead are involved.
In combat he tosses insults at his foes as readily as he does spears of radiant light. It is clear that he enjoys fighting: not only is he able to send worthy and unworthy souls alike to Letherna, he feels that every time his own blood is spilled brings him closer to the Raven Queen. Heals himself and his allies without concern, knowing that if it was the Queen’s will for he or his allies to die, she would not have endowed him with the ability to heal the wounded or raise the dead.
Leasath’s ultimate goal is a world without the undead. He wants to relieve the people of a terrible, frightening threat so that they may live a carefree existence. Whether or not they would actually be free from strife once the undead are gone is not a question he has bothered to consider. Perhaps most importantly, he seeks vengeance upon the vampire lord responsible for killing Aelia and annihilating Lennox.
Leasath is rather large for a human, but his bulky scale mail conceals an athletic, scarred body. He wears his brown hair short (about 1-1/2 inches), attempting to spike it whenever possible, thinking that the ladies find it attractive. He wears a distinctive scar on his left cheek from attempting to wield a warscythe at far too young an age.
Leasath is moderately handsome. Most would agree that his finest feature is his mouth, which almost always displays a mischievous smile. His eyes have brown irises that are so dark that they appear black.
Leasath wears black scale mail under a blue and grey cape. His black metal shield prominently displays the holy symbol of the Raven Queen, while his cape bears the insignia of the Desian army. This configuration is not worn without a good reason: he wants the allies who fight behind him to know that this powerful cleric stands to fight alongside them, and his enemies who come rushing toward him to know that their true foe is the Goddess of Death. Simultaneously inspiring valor in his allies and fear in his opponents, he rushes into battle with swift, violent motions. Fluidity is not something known to Leasath Aurelia, for he is not one to value subtlety. A frontline warrior, he doesn’t fear death, and only hesitates when considering the safety of his friends.
Leasath is a man of common birth, born an only child to a blacksmith and a teacher in the small village of Lennox. A boastful lad even from a young age, his only true friend was a half-elf girl of the same age named Aelia, who happened to be the only person in the village capable of making Leasath follow commands. Leasath’s and Aelia’s parents would always taunt the pair with jokes about how they were one day fated to wed, which annoyed them profusely (despite its apparent truth).
Their peaceful life was disrupted on a winter night, when a vampire coven raided Lennox. Leasath and Aelia were only 12 years old, and there was little they could do to protect even themselves. Leasath awoke to screams, finding his parents slaughtered in their bedroom: apparently the vampires assumed there was nothing of value in their home, and so they moved on without checking for survivors.
Leasath, fearing the worst, rushed outside to find Aelia. Ignoring the biting cold, found footprints in the fresh snow leading outside of their home. Had they survived? He followed them quickly, remaining optimistic.
What Leasath found changed his life forever. Aelia’s parents were slain, and she stood alone against what appeared to be the vampires’ leader. A dagger shaking in her untranied hands, she leapt at the powerful figure in vain. He quickly subdued her with a dominating gaze, and sunk his fangs into her neck while Leasath stood dumbfounded. Before her lifeless body fell to the ground, they made eye contact one final time: without a word, she spent her last efforts into exhibiting a weak smile, as she was grateful she could see him one last time.
The vampire noticed this expression, and looked up at Leasath. He began speaking, but Leasath paid no attention to the parasite’s words. As he paced toward his foe, the shadow-cloaked figure chuckled at the futility of the boy’s actions. Leasath did not care. His slow pace escalated to a sprint, and as he lunged at his enemy, he bellowed, “YOU! WILL! DIE!” From the darkness, a robust voice spoke words of satisfaction: “Well said, lad.” A powerful winter gust erupted from the night sky, knocking the vampire prone. A tall, muscular man with long ebony hair, clad in grey armor descended upon the vampire like a hawk upon a rat. The man’s ornate warscythe swung down, but the vampire dissipated into mist before it could connect.
Is this a miracle? Leasath wondered. The scythe-wielder expressed dissatisfaction at letting the vampire escape before turning to the boy. He introduced himself as Lord Mortimer, paladin of the Raven Queen, and instructed him not to worry.
“Why shouldn’t I worry!?” he protested. “My family is dead! Aelia is… Aelia is…”
“Safe,” Mortimer interrupted. “Her soul is safe under the Raven Queen’s great wings.”
Leasath was stunned. He was filled to the brim with rage, but somehow Mortimer’s assurance had calmed him somewhat.
“I… I want them to pay.”
“No one can blame you for that, child. That is why She sends men like me after abominations like that. Don’t worry, I will end their miserable existence.”
“No. That’s not good enough.”
“Well, I could torture them first if you want, but…”
“No, I want to do it myself. If the Raven Queen is as mighty as you say, she can give me the power I need to kill them. That way… that way they can’t do this anymore.”
Mortimer smiled. He had encountered many children who survived undead attacks. Most of them had been concerned with getting to safety, but this child was already concerned with protecting other people, despite recognizing he was powerless to do so. Perhaps already knowing the answer, Mortimer immediately cast Hand of Fate to see if the Raven Queen would accept another servant.
The ritual acted differently than usual. It normally causes a spectral hand to simply point toward the correct course of action. For Leasath, the Hand of Fate entwined itself upon his own, embracing it as though they were mother and son. Mortimer instantly recognized this sign, and took the boy under his tutelage immediate.
Eleven years later Leasath set out on his own, a fully ordained cleric of the Raven Queen. A world filled with death and undeath alike waited for him, but Leasath was not afraid. Indeed, he was proud of his overtly insurmountable task. With a heavy sigh and a wide smile, he left his master so he could fulfill his destiny.
The rest is history.