Fjænder Whoash

A PC of the Nowhere Knots, Fjænder is an Air Genasi Bard.

Backstory (SPOILER WARNING )
Fjænder Whoash was a young and talented musician. He was the lead singer of the carriage-house band “Fjænder and the Fjour Elements”, which he started with some of his boyhood friends an Earth, Fire, and Water Genasi (Tellus, Brand, and Loch respectively). It was rare for 4 Genasi of any type to live in such close-proximity much less of the same age so the boys instantly bonded with one another. Fjænder’s mother, Sirena, who was of human decent as far as he knew, had dated a Djinn for a hot second and 9 months later, well….. Sirena never spoke poorly of Fjænder’s father and could often be heard humming a hopeful tune of returning into the winds. When he was little Sirena would call him “Fjændy”, but she alone ever called him this.

As an Air Genasi, Fjænder had great command over the wind and could sing an entire song on a single breath or hold a note on his flute for hours on end. His lyrics and music were mesmerizing, and the group began gaining a small following of groupies called “Fjanatics” in their home town of Jak Rukkoh, in western Arad Doman. Not being one to stay in one play long, Fjænder convinced the group to take their show on the road.

They were playing at the Mistlethorn Tavern, in the capital city of Bandar Eban, one autumn evening when Queen Parth, who was secretly in attendance, saw something that piqued her interest. The audience was already spellbound by the performance and Fjænder and company were taking their final bow when he shouted, “Thank you, and be sure to tip your bar wench!!”  Immediately everyone in the room, with the exception of the Queen, reached in to their purses and as though they had choreographed it held up a gold or silver, whatever they happened to have. Fjænder chuckled, “Niiiiiiice” and went backstage.

The Queen, brimming with excitement sent a messenger the next day and invited the group to give a special performance for her, the King, and members of their court. The Fjour Elements played dozens of songs throughout the evening. The King fell into a drunken sleep, but the court was moved like the waves of the ocean, inspired into fiery passion, and stunned in terrestrial enchantment. It was Fjænder’s voice, however, that stood out and it was he on whom she focused her attention.

It was nearing dawn when the concert ended. The Queen approached Fjænder, fawning and flirting, saying he possessed a great talent and asked if he’d ever considered a career as a bard.

“A bard?” Fjænder said. “Woooooahhhhh…but, what about my band?”

“What band?” The queen replied as she wafted a hand in front of him.

His vision clouded for a moment before refocusing on a stage that was empty except for a few instruments and a single stool. The King and members of court were fast asleep around the salon.

“I’ve never seen a solo-artist with more talent.” The Queen said as she playfully walked her fingers along his leather vest.

“Heh…I’m my own one-man band…awesome!” Fjænder replied.

“That’s right, and I can help you unlock your true potential as an artist.” The queen whispered.

Fjænder: “Whooooahhh.”

And with that Fjænder began learning the ways of the Bard. The Queen introduced him to his new teacher, an energetic gnome named Merrick Pluckstrings, and Fjænder spent the mornings studying music, spells, and enchantments under his focused tutelage. After lunch, Fjænder would then assist the King with state duties, delivering messages to the Council of Merchants or crying the news of the realm, often regarding a missing person. In the evenings, he would continue his study or give concerts in the tavern or in the town square.

Working with the King was challenging to say the least. He was a difficult man to control. Nightly, he would drunkenly write blasphemous scrolls about prominent locals or make up lies about his accomplishments and send them via messenger pigeons across the land, and of course have no recollection about this come morning. Fjænder had to do some damage control, but he was generally content with his position.

He and Professor Pluckstrings, however, got along quite well. In fact, Merrick was becoming something of a surrogate father to Fjænder. In the little downtime they had Merrick taught him to play Dragonchess, and when it came to the work the professor was quite demanding but in a bumbling and loving way that only the most kind-hearted of gnomes could be. Old Merrick was brought to new vitality and excitement by Fjænder’s gifts and more than once was knocked off his little feet by his powerful lungs. They studied healing, illusion, and enchantment, and during a particularly interesting lesson, Merrick taught Fjænder how to whisper into people’s dreams.

In addition to this growing familial connection with Merrick, Fjænder was fed whatever he desired and could perform his own music as often as he wished. For an Air Genasi who typically liked to move with the winds, this was becoming home for him, and his new life went on for some time until one morning after his lessons when the Queen told Fjænder that she had a special task for him.

“My darling Fjænder I need you to do a little favor for me. There is an illness spreading through the land afflicting all of the children. I’ve created a spell, a vexxination, that will keep them healthy, but I need to cast it when the light of the moon is full. Tonight, at midnight, I need you to go down through the village and play the sweetest tune on your flute that will awaken all the children from their slumber and make them follow you back here to the tower. I don’t want to alarm their parents. Many are anti-vexxing and would never allow them here, but I know in my heart this is the right thing. Do this for me my lovely, and I will make you the biggest singer in the entire realm”.

Fjænder paused, sensing something amiss, but still under her charm, agreed, “Right-on your majesty.”

It was near midnight and Fjænder was leaving the tower after retrieving his flute when he heard a commotion from the dungeon below, where he had in fact never been before.

“I didn’t know we had a dungeon…gnarly!” he thought.

He went to check it out and found the door to the dungeon ajar and heard muffled voices within. Hugging the shadows he peered through the crack in the door to see three beings tied up in chains, the Queen, and a cloaked figure standing over them, who he assumed at first to be the King. The figure spoke in a tongue Fjænder didn’t understand and the Queen answered him back in Common.

“Yes, I know my Lord, I...I….thought...they would have been sufficient….but it will work this time. There are so many coming. They will restore you...I promise!” And with that the figure abruptly slapped the Queen across the face and spoke a few more harsh, unintelligible words. The Queen winced but held back any response.

At the same moment, Fjænder felt the slap as well and as if tight headband he had been wearing was suddenly removed. As his vision refocused, a kaleidoscope of images came rushing into his mind, all of them of him playing an entrancing song and leading one of the recently missing people back to the queen. Why had he forgotten them?? He recognized the chained beings as his friends, and saw the Queen for what she really was. “A totally evil biiiiitch”. But, who was that big dude? Wooooooah what a nasty right hook!

In a whirlwind of emotions, Fjænder had to think quickly. He ran to Professor Pluckstrick’s quarters to find his door open. The room was in shambles, Merrick’s few belongings strewn about. It was difficult to tell whether there were signs of a struggle but there was no Professor. Fjænder checked the room for any clues and under the bed found a sealed letter addressed to him attached to a light, wooden crossbow with a few bolts. On top of that was a small iron key with the note “friends” attached. As he saw this, Fjænder heard someone coming down the hall. He strapped the crossbow across his back, pocketed the key and the still-sealed letter, and ran toward the town with a plan in mind.

He descended into the streets and began playing a sweet lullaby that woke the children from their slumber. One by one the little ones appeared in doorways, some clutching teddy bears, all of them dressed in their pajamas. The parents were not awoken from this song, but began sharing the same dream of Fjænder telling them that he was taking the children to safety and that the Queen was meaning to harm them but that they must not go after her. The few denizens who were still awake were either too drunk or sleepy to register a throng of children walking through the streets in the middle of the night as anything more than a trick of the mind.

Fjænder led the children through a nearby pasture and with a few magical words, where once stood a flock of grazing sheep now stood an exact replica of each child. The children, still under Fjænder’s spell started at them blankly, the sheep-children bleating and chewing on grass. Fjænder put a finger to his lips and a cool gust of a SHHHHH silenced the kindersheep. He quickly ushered the real children down to the docks and loaded them onto 4 rowboats. Rushing back to the sheepchildren, Fjænder led them up to the tower, leaving his newfound crossbow outside the room just out of sight, where sat the somewhat nervous and impatient waiting Queen and the mysterious cloaked figured, quite tense, which Fjænder could now see was definitely not human. It stood a good foot taller and its body seemed withered and gaunt.

“Your majesty, as you requested,” said Fjænder as the “children” filed into the room.

“Ah, I was beginning to worry.” The Queen replied as she rose from her seat.

The hooded figure stayed tense and silent, but sniffed the air as if smelling one’s dinner as its eyes met Fjænder’s. Fjænder’s mind was partly on the crossbow he thought he might need to grab. The Queen introduced the figure as a “friend” who was helping her with the “vexxination”. She thanked Fjænder for his help and with a waft of her hand told him to think of happy things and to get some rest. Fjænder paused for a moment, chucked a bit and with a polite bow, he closed the door behind him, grabbed his bow, and rushed down to the dungeon below, leaving too quickly to notice the faint glimmer in the queen’s eyes that Fjænder was acting strangely....

The key Merrick left fit perfectly in the dungeon lock and in a flash he had unchained his friends who were visibly shaken and confused. With a few healing words he hurried them down to the docks where they jumped into the four waiting boats and headed down the River Akuum. They could see the tower in the distance growing smaller and smaller, and Fjænder heard the faint echo of a terrible scream and saw what looked like an explosion of fleece from the windows of the tower.

Fjænder and his friends drifted through the night and into the next day until the following evening when they docked near a forest where they set up camp. He knew the name he had been making for himself in the area and staying with the group was certain to draw the attention of the Queen, so he decided to leave the group and told his friends that they must find a way to get the children back with their parents, but to be careful as a group of Genasi with a throng of children in bedclothes was “like super suspicious, right?” He set off on foot, sometimes hitching a ride, and covered as much distance as he could until he was now quite far from his friends, even further from the Queen, and with no idea what direction Home was in until he came to a place where he hoped nobody would know his name. He could only pray that the “little dudes were okay”.

In the weeks and months that passed Fjænder used his mellifluous voice and mad flute skills on the street for a few copper, but he was now one of many bards in this new place, so most people passed him without looking twice. In the evenings, he might use his powers of persuasion and sleight hand to make a lift a few silver pieces from nobles and wealthy merchants who would never miss them. Still, he wasn’t making much and he soon fell in with a group of rogues and pickpockets, who noticed his talents. Fjænder was doing quite well for himself now, and when enough time had passed and there was no sign of the Queen and her “friend”, he began to leave the past behind and settle into this new life…

Merrick's Letter
Fjænder,

''I must entrust you with a terrible task. It was my hope to shield you in this matter, but this old gnome can only do so much, it seems.''

''Seeming… A final lesson for you: illusions - seeming - can be more powerful than reality itself. We have been blinded by a powerful illusion. Powerful, and deadly.''

''It’s best that you don’t know all of what has ocurred, so I will say only this: proceed with stealth into the dungeons below, as soon as you can. There you will find a number of innocent souls being held captive for a horrible purpose - the sight will undoubtedly bring back some of the memories that have been taken from you. Use this key to free them, and flee. Parth’s reach is far, but not so far that you can’t escape. If you can, flee Arad Doman.''

''It is my hope that you might start over... ply your arts simply in some new town, and put all of this behind you. But if misfortune strikes and you find yourself in need of friends, seek out the Patchwork Flight. We may meet again… for your sake I hope we do not, and yet in my heart, I hope we do.''

''Be well, young Fjænder. May Selûne guide your journey.''

Yours,

Merrick